


the dragon's expense

by Fluoradine



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Mentions of Death, Sacrifice, Shimada Brothers, Young Genji Shimada, Young Hanzo Shimada, no onscreen death it's just mentioned, not shmadacst, spirit dragons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 06:22:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9644219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluoradine/pseuds/Fluoradine
Summary: Small thing I wrote for someone's Shimada brother week on tumblr - an AU in which the Dragon that guards the Shimadas does so for a price of a decade annual sacrifice, and it just happens that Genji is this generations lucky kid.





	

The old bell reflected the sun as it sunk below the horizon of the city. It shone golden light onto the wooden floor, and onto Hanzo, where he sat on his knees, attempting to clear his mind of all thoughts. He focused on the cool summer air, breathing in and out in time to his counting. He listened to the birds flying through the courtyard, chirping and flapping their wings, flying from trees to the perches of the house. He traced the outlines on the bell with his eyes, each carving and coil as it twisted and turned, each detail on the dragons’ bodies. Hanzo had the same designs on his arm. He knew their design like it was a part of him. The ink felt heavy on his body as he sat, meditating, and trying not to think of what was yet to come.  
  
It had to happen tonight. He had been told of it weeks in advance, his grandparents and mother leading him into their meeting room after he was supposed to be asleep. They’d explained it all to him, and answered nearly all his questions, except for one: why? Why would he be the one to do it? Why could it not have been his father, or any of his family instead? Why would the Dragon demand such a thing of them?   
  
He had always been told the spirit would protect him, and his whole family for the centuries to come. He'd trusted it for years, and had always been grateful for the power it granted his family. All they had to do was keep it pleased. Hanzo hadn’t known what that meant until he’d been told last month, and now he wished he hadn’t known at all. But there was no backing away from this. He had to be the one to make the sacrifice.  
  
He had tried to stay away from Genji since he’d woken up this morning, dread and fear filling every inch of his body. He’d spoken only a few words to him when he ate, and had avoided him during training completely. His behaviour shouldn’t have been suspicious to Genji; they’d been disagreeing on more and more things more often, and Hanzo could feel the distance between themselves growing. All that piled atop of what he knew he had to do had been making him feel terrible.   
  
The knowing looks his grandparents gave him as he walked through the house today made him feel sick. They did not speak with him either. It had been a silent day. Nearly everyone knew what was to happen. Everyone except for Genji, of whom Hanzo had noticed looking confused for most of the day. He couldn’t tell him. It would just make the task harder to complete.  
  
Hanzo had felt the day coming for a few weeks, now. The dragons that attached themselves to him had been growing weak, disappearing for hours, and becoming unable to use their full power. He knew it was because their master was weak, and would not be sated until it was given what it needed. Hanzo’s family had warned him of completing his task on time, or else all of the dragons attached to each of them would return to their master. There was no telling if they’d come back, or what would happen to the family if the sacrifice was not made. He had no other choice but to upkeep the terrible tradition.   
  
He’d practiced with his sword for a few hours in training, when Genji was nowhere in sight. Every slice he made into the thin air felt worse, and every step he took made him feel sick. This would be how he would kill him. He wouldn’t make it last longer than it needed to. There would be no fighting. Hanzo hoped it would be over quickly. He couldn’t stand thinking about what he was doing for more than a minute at a time. Even though his life and training had never been perceived as normal, no man should ever have to practice killing his brother.   
  
He tried to pretend as if he was practicing for a fight, in which he’d slay his enemies one by one, and return home without any change. It made the training easier, but the thought that the scenario was fake remained in his head. When he had finished, he’d left for his room, and hadn’t come back out until an hour ago.  
  
The weather was becoming colder as Hanzo stayed sitting by the bell. Sunlight had not yet faded from the sky, and a weak golden glow was still reflecting from the bell. He was alone in the courtyard, his sword lying in front of him, his hair out of its tie and tucked behind his ears. The loose clothing he wore covered his whole body, keeping him from shivering in the summer evening cold.   
  
And yet, while he tried to meditate and think about anything other than what had to be done, he could not take his mind away from it. He was going to kill his brother. He had to. It wasn’t a choice. He couldn’t have said no. He couldn’t have refused and saved him, disregarding years of honour and loyalty to his family. It was his duty to them, and to the Dragon.  
  
The carvings on the gold bell seemed to swim before Hanzo’s eyes. “I am afraid,” he confessed in a whisper, checking to see if anyone had come into the courtyard, and could hear him confessing weakness to the bell. “I know you are weak, and I promise you will not be for any longer…not for much longer…but I am not ready for this.”  
  
The dragons carved into the bell did not reply. All was quiet, the birds even silent in the distance. Hanzo looked at his sword that lay at his feet. It was a gorgeous katana, the blue silver handle shining beautifully in the sunset. Hanzo always cleaned it after a fight so that blood would not stain the blade. He made sure that it always looked presentable and threatening, so that his enemies would not assume he was an untrained killer. Just looking at the clean blade made his stomach turn.  
  
“Why?” Hanzo asked the dragon bell. “Why do you want to take him? He is still young, still has hope….why couldn’t you have wanted me, instead?” He was met with silence once more. “Why do you want me to do this?”   
  
Hanzo bit down on his lip, so hard he felt a small taste of metal. This would not unravel him any more than it already had, he told himself. He would not let the guilt and the fear destroy him, destroy his exterior. He had to do this. It wasn’t a choice. He was not to question it.   
  
Hanzo closed his eyes, and lost track of the time. He did not move for a long time, afraid of what he had to do once he did. He didn’t even notice the footsteps behind him.   
  
“You’re out here?” Genji’s voice asked, and Hanzo’s eyes opened. There was his brother, standing above him, staring in confusion. “I was looking for you.”Hanzo didn’t say anything. He tore his eyes away from him, staring back at the dragons carved into the bell.   
  
“Did I interrupt something?” Genji asked quietly.   
  
“No,” Hanzo lied. “I was only about to come inside.”  
  
“It’s not really that late. You don’t have to leave just because I interrupted you.” The sun was finally fading behind the horizon. The glow had stopped shining from the bell. Darkness was falling over the courtyard. The handle of Hanzo’s sword glimmered in the last fading light. He could feel the weight on his arm sinking into his skin, almost tearing into him, as if a reminder of what had to be done.   
  
“It’s alright. We’ll walk back together.” Hanzo said. He stood, picking up the sword and holding it in his hand.  
  
“I saw the sunset as I was walking over,” Genji said, looking into the sky behind the two. “It was nice. There hasn’t been one that pretty since all the storms last week.”  
  
Hanzo didn't say anything in response. He hadn’t gotten the chance to look at the sky behind him while he was meditating. Genji fell silent, and they said nothing else to each other for the whole way back.  
  
As the two walked back from the courtyard, Hanzo tried to memorize what his brother’s face looked like. He tried to memorize the sound of his voice, the way he looked around as they walked, the colour of his eyes. They would not return to the house together. The time had come for the Dragon’s sacrifice to be made. It was too late to say anything, too late to abandon all honour and run away.   
  
The sword was so heavy in Hanzo’s hand. He tried to remember the steps he’d practiced that afternoon, slashing and stabbing at air. And he tried to focus on the evening around them, these last few minutes before the Dragon would return to its full strength, and Genji would be gone forever. Hanzo’s mind was so full of all these things, he couldn’t hear a thing Genji was saying to him. It didn’t matter, anyway. He didn’t need to hear it.

  


As Hanzo returned to the house, the night had turned dark. The first face to greet him as he approached the doorway was his mother, concern in her eyes, her lips pursed and hands folded.  
  
“The Dragon is sated.” Hanzo said, holding the handle of his bloodied sword in his hand. His mother nodded, and went inside the house. Hanzo’s tattooed arm was no longer hurting, and he could feel his dragons still with him. He listened to the empty sounds of the night, biting down on his lip, drawing blood once more. His family would be safe for another ten years. He would be safe and protected by the Dragon for the rest of his life. It was a small price to pay for so much in return.  
  
But Hanzo no longer knew if that price was so small and important anymore.


End file.
